


To My Heart's Other Side, An Epitaph

by In_a_Quandary



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drama, Existential Angst, F/M, Game: Kingdom Hearts 358/2 Days, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Tragedy, sort-of compliant with the start of KH2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-10-28 15:10:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17789705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_a_Quandary/pseuds/In_a_Quandary
Summary: What if Roxas runs into Xion before she enters the Twilight Town mansion on Day 356? And what if she gives him all the missing information that he so desperately seeks? How will he react once he learns the awful truth of their situation – and the ultimate price they must pay?An alternate ending to358/2 Days, in which Roxas has more agency in deciding his fate.





	1. Gate to Oblivion

**Author's Note:**

> With the recent release of KH3, I’ve decided to revisit the series. _358/2 Days_ is my favourite instalment, and Roxas and Xion are my utmost favourite characters. Going through their story was like taking a giant wrecking ball to the heart. As much as they deserve a happy ending, I believe DDD and KH3 did them (and numerous other characters, Axel included) a serious injustice by undoing their deaths. A tragedy loses all of its impact if its high stakes do not actually exist. 
> 
> Ten years on, I still wonder how things would’ve unfolded if Roxas hadn’t been forced to fight Xion and then Riku, resulting in him going through the ignominy that is the fake Twilight Town. What if he were relieved of his ignorance instead? Would he return to Sora of his own volition, as Riku had guessed? Hence this story was born, though I’m probably a decade late in penning it. 
> 
> There are a number of story concepts/character interactions that don’t seem to have received adequate attention (either in canon or fanfiction), so I’ll be addressing them here. They include:  
> -The moral dilemma in sacrificing Xion and Roxas to wake Sora, and Roxas confronting the various involved parties about it, Riku in particular  
> -A final reconciliation between Roxas, Xion and Axel  
> -Roxas taking steps to forcibly remember Xion
> 
> Roxas’ relationship with Xion plays a prominent role in this story. Days portrays them as best friends with a subtle romantic slant, which mirrors the canonical Sora/Kairi. However, they’re too pure and inexperienced – and in Roxas’ case, lacking enough self-awareness – to go down the romantic route proper. I’m aiming to stay as faithful to this portrayal as possible, but my inclination for this pairing shows, so I've tagged it accordingly.

xxx

**1. _Gate to Oblivion_**

xxx

Running away from the Organisation is more dreary than Roxas might've expected.

Only a day had passed since he’d made his escape, and already he’s unnerved by the lack of pursuers. After emerging victorious from his clash with Saïx, Roxas hadn’t gotten into any more major fights. There were no lesser Nobodies sent after him, not even a horde of Dusks hot on his heels. 

It’s as though the Organisation doesn’t care he’s on the loose.

Maybe that’s too optimistic a thought. Maybe their silence is just the deceptive calm before the storm. They’re probably still focussed on retrieving Xion, their _functioning_ Keyblade wielder. What reason would they have to prioritise _him_ , the useless castaway who’s been struggling harder and harder to complete his missions?

Whatever. Roxas is _done_ with the Organisation. Never again will he obey their orders, be a mindless tool for some grand scheme that he doesn’t even know anything about. If he isn’t important enough to warrant their immediate attention, all the better for him. He can certainly use some breathing space to think things through. While by no means unwelcome, this newfound ability to make decisions for himself isn’t one he’s familiar with.

That's a bit of an understatement, really; it leaves him with the distinct feeling that he's in over his head.

Because he doesn’t know where to go, or what to do.

When Roxas chose to desert the Organisation, he hadn't formulated a plan of any description, just followed the overwhelming urge to _get out_. Fighting his way forward was simple; he’d mercilessly cut down anything that stood in his path. Not even Axel’s intervention had slowed down his relentless march. What with distrust firmly wedged between them, the older Nobody’s warnings had rung hollow in Roxas’ ears. 

So he'd left his former best friend behind, and proceeded to the threshold of Fragment Crossing. Here, he’d cast a final backward glance—

_(taking in the view of ghostly spires silhouetted against the heart-shaped moon)_

—and hesitated.

Though cold and sterile and rather uninviting, the Castle That Never Was had been his home. It was a refuge of sorts, somewhere to rest when he was tired, and to fill his belly when he was hungry. It was also the gathering place of not-quite-people like himself, people with whom he could mingle and feel a sense of kinship. Within its colourless walls, he was given purpose and an identity, however mysterious and obfuscated.

Bereft of all that, Roxas had _nothing_. 

Turning back wasn’t an option, however. His mind was – _still is_ – full of questions without answers. Answers which nobody at the castle had seen fit to give him.

In the end, he’d opened a corridor of darkness to Twilight Town. When in doubt, Roxas would return to the land of his birth. (How he’d cobbled together enough self-awareness to remember his first day, he’ll never know.) It’s quite the contrast to the World That Never Was, with picturesque brick terraces and paved streets bathed in the warmth of the perpetual sunset. Overlooking the town is the iconic clock tower, the place where he’d wiled away countless afternoons eating ice-cream with his friends. 

This time, Roxas’ visit wouldn’t involve anything quite so pleasant. Survival was his current goal, and he needed somewhere to camp until he could figure out his next move.

Though he knew very little about how to live on one’s own, Roxas understood the basic necessities. Eat, drink, find shelter, sleep. And beat off the intrepid Heartless that like to use his Keyblade as a homing beacon. In this case, his first course of action was to buy himself a proper meal. 

Unfortunately, sea salt ice-cream would _not_ do. He’d endured plenty of lectures from various Organisation members – not Axel or Demyx – on its nutritional merits; that is to say: _none_.

For that purpose, he’d brought along whatever munny he could shove into his pockets. With careful rationing, it would carry him through a few weeks. The remaining pocket space was taken up by his diary – his only possession with personal value – and a bunch of curatives stocked up from the Organisation moogle merchant, out-of-date Elixirs excepted.

The noodle bar cashier had given him a weird look when he’d stepped up to the counter – and why wouldn’t she? He’s a strange boy in a strange black coat. To his relief, she hadn’t denied him service. As soon as the box of takeaway changed hands, Roxas had slinked off to some shadowy, discreet corner, where he’d stepped through a dark corridor to the top of the clock tower. Materialising one of those in plain sight wouldn't help him in keeping a low profile, after all.

His body had moved of its own volition, folding him into his usual seat. There were only two people who would think to look for him here, and neither of them were coming for him. Glancing at the empty spaces on his left and right only served to reinforce that fact. 

In an effort to stave off the hollow ache in his chest, Roxas had turned his attention to his takeaway. But every mouthful had tasted like ashes.

Without the Organisation – _without his friends_ – he was lost. A confused runaway wandering one foreign neighbourhood among many. _Alone_.

After a few minutes of mechanically shoving food down his throat, Roxas found himself unable to bear it any longer. Pushing away the remains of his meal, he shuffled inside and slumped against the nearest wall, unseeing eyes fixed on the ceiling. Eventually, exhaustion claimed him, putting an end to his aimless, morose thoughts.

Then the next day arrived by virtue of the tower bells striking eight o’ clock. Roxas had startled into full wakefulness, his joints numb and a painful crick in his neck.

He still hadn't worked out what to do.

As a non-native in conspicuous non-native clothes, wandering around in broad daylight would draw too much attention. It occurred to him to change his outfit, but he'd ultimately ruled out that idea. Shopping wasn’t a luxury he could afford. Besides, in the event that he needed to make a hasty exit, the Organisation coat would grant him safe passage through the darkness.

So he’d made his way to the woods. It’s unlikely that anyone would bother him here; the threat of lurking Heartless tended to keep out the sensible townsfolk. Plopping down on a fallen log, Roxas let his gaze settle on a patch of sun-dappled undergrowth.

That's how he'd landed in his current, dreary state of affairs.

He isn’t sure how long he’d sat there for, weighing the pros and cons of taking refuge in the various worlds he’d visited, or brainstorming (unsuccessfully) of ways he might find out more about this all-important 'Sora’. Every so often, his musings would be interrupted by a handful of encroaching Shadows. However, the ensuing battle is never long enough – or _intense_ enough – to siphon away his ever-building frustration.

The fifth time he is shaken out of his thoughts, Roxas hears the sound of twigs crunching underfoot.

Comprised of pure darkness as they are, Shadows cannot make audible footsteps. Has something larger and more dangerous appeared, perhaps a pursuer from the Organisation? Or is it one of the more foolhardy civilians, out here on some stupid dare or misadventure? 

Snapping wary eyes back and forth, Roxas spots movement at the edge of the forest. There’s a human-shaped figure picking their way through the underbrush. Someone about the same size and height as himself, wrapped in a telltale black coat—

“Xion?” he calls out without thinking.

The figure halts in its tracks, turning towards his voice.

Rising to his feet, Roxas takes a few tentative steps in its – _her_ – direction. “Xion, it _is_ you, isn’t it?”

The figure remains silent, but he can sense her unseen gaze on him. Taking this as some sort of positive sign, Roxas removes his hood and makes a steady, if still cautious approach. A few metres short of reaching her, he stops, forestalled by her raised palm.

“Roxas.” Her voice, the way she pronounces his name – soft and mellow and wonderfully _familiar_ – leaves no doubt as to who she might be. “I’m not going back to the Organisation.”

“That’s fine by me,” he replies, lapsing into the easy manner that he normally has around his second best friend, “‘cause I’m not going back either. I’ve run away, too.”

“You have?”

His affirming nod must have satisfied her, for Xion throws off her hood. Roxas feels his chest tighten in response; never had her choppy black bangs and indigo eyes been a more welcome sight. While he’d always liked looking upon her face – admiring how the light would catch on her pretty, delicate features – doing so now fills him with an immeasurable relief. Here she is, a friendly presence in the midst of so much uncertainty.

Overtaken by a sudden impulse to make sure she is real, Roxas closes the remaining gap between them, capturing her wrists. Her warmth and solidarity seeps through the fabric of their gloves, grounding him. 

“Xion, I’m so glad you’re here,” he declares, his words nothing if not heartfelt.

“I’m glad to see you too, Roxas.” Her reply is no less heartfelt, but he can also hear sadness in it.

“Since we're both in the same situation, how 'bout we run away together, you and me?” he offers, giving her wrists a gentle squeeze.

Instead of providing the reassurance he’s aiming for, this only seems to make her sadder. “As much as I'd like to, I can’t come with you,” Xion confesses, her eyes deep pools that reflect the shaded gloom around them.

“Why not?”

“There’s something I must do, and I can only do it alone.” She averts her gaze. “I’m sorry, Roxas.”

He feels his lips pinch together into a displeased line. “That’s not telling me anything.”

“If I tell you about it,” she explains, still not looking at him, “you’d try to stop me.”

Roxas’ frown deepens; _that_ sounds too much like an echo of Axel’s various excuses. “So it’s something I won’t like to hear; I get that. But don’t I have a right to know, as your friend?”

Her expression is a mix of guilt and pleading when she turns back to face him. “Roxas—”

“Does it have something to do with you being a—” he barrels onward, forcing out the hated word, “—a _puppet_?”

There is a prolonged pause before she answers. “Yes.”

“Then explain to me _why_. Please, Xion,” he implores, shaking her wrists for emphasis. “I’ve been kept in the dark for so long. I just wanna know what’s going on.”

She studies his face for another prolonged moment. “I have to go back to where I belong.”

“Where _do_ you belong?”

“With Sora.”

That omnipresent name again. “Xemnas says he’s the connection between us. But who  _is_  Sora?”

Xion’s eyes widen at his question, as though it had caught her by surprise. “He’s the person I was before. The person  _you_  were before.”

With a resounding mental click, the pieces of the puzzle fall into place. He can scarcely believe it. The answer had been right under his nose all this time—! “You mean, I’m his _Nobody_?”

“I honestly thought you already knew that,” she confirms, eyes still wide.

Roxas lets out a humourless chuckle. “No, it’s news to me,” he says with no small amount of bitterness. “No one bothered to tell me, not even Axel. Hell, he even made a point of keeping it a _secret_.”

Xion casts her eyes downward. “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, dismissing her apology. “That’s on him, not you.”

“I kept my fair share of secrets from you, too,” she persists, stubbornly contrite.

“But you’re giving me the answers now, aren’t you?” 

There’s resignation in the way Xion dips her head, but sincerity too. Then she shifts as to reciprocate his gesture, her fingers coiling around his wrists. 

“Roxas, please don’t be angry with Axel,” she pleads, locking her eyes with his. “He was only trying to protect us.”

“By withholding the truth?” he counters, incredulous. “How’s that’s supposed to protect us? What’s wrong with telling me that I’m Sora’s Nobody?”

“I’m afraid that’s only... the beginning of the story.” Her words are quiet, troubled.

“Will you tell me the rest of it, then?”

In response, Xion untangles their intertwined wrists, letting them fall back to their respective sides. It’s as though she’s taking some precautionary step by deliberately putting distance between them, and already Roxas mourns the loss of her touch.

“As I said before, I have to go back to Sora. That’s because some of his memories have found their way inside me. But they rightfully belong to him, so I have to give them back. He’s been sleeping for a long time, and he needs those memories in order to wake up.”

Bringing up a fist and resting his chin against it, Roxas ruminates on this new information for a minute or so. It doesn’t line up with what he knows. A Nobody is created when a strong-willed person turns into a Heartless, right? How then, is it possible for Sora – his past self – to co-exist with him _and_ Xion at the same time? 

Why does he have a sneaking suspicion that there are complicated, outside-the-norm mechanics involved?

Whatever. Roxas might look into those another time. Right now, he has other, more pressing questions to ask, such as:

“Is it _that_ important to wake him up?

“ _Yes_ ,” Xion asserts, conviction in her tone. “He has many friends waiting for him. And I shouldn’t be taking something that doesn’t belong to me in the first place.”

“I’m pretty sure the strange dreams I keep having are actually Sora’s memories,“ Roxas points out. “If you have to give them back to him, won’t _I_ have to do that, too?”

“In the end, yes.”

“Do you know what will happen to us once we give them back?”

“You and Sora are two halves of the same person,” she exposits without hesitation. “You’re the body he’s left behind, just like he’s the heart you’re missing. When you two join together, you’ll become whole.” 

This revelation makes it clear that there’s something very _wrong_ with the big picture. “All this time, we’ve been collecting hearts to complete Kingdom Hearts,” Roxas says slowly, his voice filled with combined wonder and incredulity, “and now you’re saying I’ve never _needed_ it?”

Xion nods, a grim set to her mouth. “I don’t know much about the Organisation’s plans, but I’m sure of one thing: Kingdom Hearts _isn’t_ the solution. You, me, even Axel – we've only ever been tools for Xemnas.”

 _Tools._ As he recalls their superior’s dismissive account of the Replica Program, Roxas finds himself nodding in agreement. Though it’s something he’d worked out in part by the time he fled the Organisation, having Xion confirm that fact doesn’t make it any less unpleasant.

“So you and I have always belonged with Sora,” he muses aloud. “If I join with him, will I still be me?”

The look she gives him is apologetic. “That, I honestly don’t know.”

“And what will happen to _you_?” he prompts. Clueless as Roxas can often be, it hasn’t escaped his notice that Xion has yet to divulge _her_ side of the answer.

Her shoulders droop, and a soft sigh escapes her. “I’m just a puppet, a copy. I’m not even meant to exist, so I’ll…” she trails off, seemingly unable to continue.

“You’ll disappear?” he finishes for her.

Xion doesn’t reply, and Roxas knows that he’d hit upon the correct answer. Not that it brings him any joy whatsoever. Is _this_ the truth that Axel had tried so hard to shield him from all along? That Xion has no salvation waiting for her, for the very nature of her existence is also her doom?

If so, he understands Axel’s motives a bit better now. It’s far too _painful_ a truth to bear.

Lunging forward, Roxas seizes her wrists again. “I can’t let you do this, Xion.”

She doesn’t object to his less-than-gentle treatment, simply smiles a tired smile. “I knew you would say that. You know, Roxas, I’m grateful to be able to see you one last time. I wanted to say goodbye.”

“ _Goodbye_?” he repeats, shaking his head in utter, _frantic_ disbelief. “Xion, you can’t expect me to just… let you go!”

“But it’s _my_ choice to go away, Roxas.”

He recoils from her, blindsided by her statement. It leaves him breathless and _hurt_ , even more so than Lexeaus’ full-force blow to the gut. “Why?” he cries, feeling hot moisture prickle at his eyelids. “Don’t you wanna stay with me? Doesn’t our friendship mean anything?”

There’s a flash of something _fierce_ across Xion’s face. “It means  _everything_. I want to be with you – you and Axel, _forever_. But you and I can’t be together,” she finishes, her ferocity giving way to despondence.

“Why not?”

Within her eyes is a sorrow so vast that Roxas fears he might drown in it. “You’re dying, Roxas,” Xion chokes out, “and I’m the one responsible. You’ve noticed how you're becoming weaker and weaker lately, right? That’s because I’m stealing your powers, just by existing. It isn’t something I can control. If I knew how, I’d give you back everything in an instant.” She scrunches her eyes shut, and her lips peel back in an agonised snarl. “Forgive me, Roxas. I never meant to be a parasite.”

So Xion is the cause of his deteriorating health. Somehow, learning about this doesn’t trouble Roxas so much as her forced involvement. How _horrible_ would it feel to be in her place, knowing that she is sucking the life out of her best friend through no action of her own?

“That’s not your fault, though!” he argues on her behalf, spreading his palms emphatically. “It’s not like you’re doing any of it on purpose!”

Xion’s eyes snap back open, and he can see something terrible within their indigo depths. “But it _is_ my fault,” she corrects him with surprising vehemence, “otherwise we wouldn’t be in this situation. Simply put, I don’t deserve to exist. Every day that I choose to live is a _mistake_.”

For the second time within the space of two minutes, Roxas feels like he’d been sucker-punched. Yet whatever hurt or disorientation he feels is swallowed up the urge to prove her wrong – even if he must defend her from _herself_.

Reaching forward to grasp Xion’s hands once more, he exclaims, “Don’t say that, Xion! It’s _not_ true! You’re _not_ a mistake!”

But despite all the fervour he had put behind them, his protests may as well have gone unheard. Xion is gazing at him now, a melancholic curve to her lips.

“I’m just glad that I got to know you, to be your friend,” she murmurs, her voice filled with warmth. “I’m glad for all the times we spent together, the three of us. Watching the sunset from the top of the clock tower, talking and laughing and eating ice-cream together… Those were the happiest days of my life."

Recognising her words for the farewell speech it is, Roxas crumples. “Xion…”

With gentle determination, she prises his hands from hers, setting them down by his sides. “I have to go now. I can’t let the Organisation catch me. They’ll turn me into their true puppet, and make me fight you again. I don’t want to hurt you anymore, Roxas.” 

In a whirl of black fabric, Xion turns her back to Roxas and proceeds to move away.

_(away from him—)_

It is then that desperation claws up from inside him, hardening into resolve. Rushing towards her departing form, Roxas seizes a handful of her sleeve. “Wait, Xion! I’m coming with you!”

Xion blinks at him from over her shoulder, eyes wide with astonishment. “Roxas, I’m going back to Sora. I’ve made up my mind.”

“I know,” he sighs, giving her sleeve a forlorn tug. Then his tone takes on a more insistent edge as he continues. “But I can’t—I _won’t_ let you go alone. If this is truly goodbye, I’m gonna stay with you for as long as I can, until… y'know, the end.”

Xion's response is to stare at him for several long seconds, so long that it leaves him in fear that she might refuse. But there's an over-bright gleam to her eyes, one indicative of unshed tears. “Okay. Thank you, Roxas,” she says, her voice wobbly and choked-sounding. “This means more to me than I can say.”

“Are you sure this is the only way?” Roxas cannot help but try again, though he's already certain of her answer.

She nods solemnly. “It’s what’s best for everyone.”

He doesn’t agree – _cannot_ agree – but there’s no point in saying that. Because Roxas _knows_ Xion. Underneath her quiet and reserved demeanour lies an will that cannot be shaken. So he changes the subject:

“How will you go back to Sora?”

“I need to find someone called Naminé,” Xion explains. “She’ll show me what I have to do next. I’m told she lives in the mansion up ahead.”

Is she referring to the same mansion they had passed by on many a mission, but never bothered to investigate? “Let’s go, then.”

Silence blankets them as they make their way through the forest. Roxas cannot bring himself to start up conversation, and neither can Xion for that matter. Even if he manages to get words past the large, painful knot in his chest, what would he say? With Xion’s demise – and potentially his own – around the literal corner, he finds himself an utter wreck. There are so many emotions churning inside him – despair, helplessness, just to name the more prominent ones – and he has no means of relieving them…

Upon arriving at their destination, they are greeted by a massive, wrought-iron gate flanked by overgrown brick walls. Perhaps Roxas’ mind is playing tricks on him, but the air feels charged, like the thrumming aftereffect of a Thunder spell. It makes the hairs on his arms stand on end, even through the insulating layer of his Organisation coat.

Xion is the first one to pipe up, breaking the silence. “Can you feel it, too? That strange magic in the air?”

“Yeah,” Roxas agrees, glad for the reprieve. “I’ve been too busy all the other times to notice, but it’s definitely there.”

“It’s a ward to keep people out,” Xion reveals, surprisingly knowledgeable about the subject. “And it makes the walls unclimbable,” she adds, noting his shudder as he steps up to the aforementioned wall and presses an experimental hand against it. The resulting sensation is not unlike someone ramming a Blizzard spell down his spine, which is to say: most unpleasant.

The gate itself contains no such repelling enchantment, however. Roxas grabs a couple of the wrought-iron bars and yanks, using his (admittedly measly) weight for leverage. But nothing so much as budges. 

“I guess we won’t be opening this by force,” he shrugs.

“Maybe it’s set up like that,” remarks Xion with a thoughtful frown, “so that only those with the right key can enter.”

With a golden flash, her Keyblade materialises in her hand. She levels the weapon at the gate’s oversized lock, and a beam of light shoots from the tip and enters the keyhole. There’s a loud _click_ a moment later, followed by the gate swinging open with a rusty whine.

Giving a satisfied nod, Xion dismisses her Keyblade with a wave. Roxas watches the trail of fading golden motes, then walks up to her side. Eager to demonstrate his support – and seize whatever remaining opportunity they have to be together – he wraps his hand around her now-empty one. She provides no objection, even going as far as to give him an appreciative squeeze. It occurs to him then, how small and frail Xion’s hand feels within his own.

She steps forward, and he matches her pace. As one, they enter the mansion grounds.


	2. Purgatory's Usher

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started a new KH2 game and made a save file in the White Room just so I could describe the mansion interior. Time to watch the ball of emotion that is Roxas get even more angry and upset… (And jealous to boot)
> 
> I must confess that the relative lack of feedback is discouraging. If you can leave a comment, saying what you like or dislike about the story so far, that would be most appreciated.

xxx

**2. _Purgatory's Usher_**

xxx

With a rumble of shifting wood, the mansion’s double entrance doors give way, showing Roxas and Xion into a large, high-ceilinged foyer.

What might have once been an impressive-looking space had long since fallen into disrepair. Strewn across the dusty floor are the broken remains of several ornamental tables, and a pile of debris blocks up the door to the right. Cobwebs litter the antique furnishings that line the walls, including more than one tarnished suit of armour. By contrast, the twin stairwells that rise to the floor above appear to be in good condition. Between them lies a glass screen through which light enters, the sole source of illumination against the gloom. 

Roxas finds his attention immediately drawn to this area. There’s a tall, silhouetted figure leaning against a nearby winged unicorn stand. Like Xion and himself, this third person is also sporting an Organisation coat—

It's the imposter! 

He opens his mouth to let out a cry of warning, but something else gives him pause. Without his hood, the imposter’s youthful features and shaggy silver hair are plain for all to see. A strip of black cloth conceals his eyes, though for what reason Roxas is unable to discern.

There’s something awfully _familiar_ about that guy—

Unbidden, memories assail him. He sees lips curled in an arrogant smirk, hears a voice issuing taunts of “giving up already?”. Adrenaline and determination course though him as he raises his wooden sword to fend off that of his opponent's, their frenetic movements scattering sand everywhere. Framing their mock battle is a backdrop of palm trees and ocean and blue sky, and his nose tingles with each inhalation of the salty breeze—

A name surfaces to the forefront of Roxas’ mind, takes shape on his tongue. “Riku.”

Xion turns towards him, eyes wide with curiosity. “You recognise him?”

“Yeah. From my—” he draws to a mental halt, correcting himself, “—from _Sora’s_ memories.”

This admission seems to intrigue Riku, for he shifts to face their direction. Roxas is certain he’d been watching them as soon as they’d stepped through the door, though.

“Xion,” he calls out. There’s a certain familiarity in the way he pronounces her name, and Roxas _dislikes_ it straightaway. Then Riku's gaze falls upon Roxas. The blindfold fails to hide the piercing scrutiny of his eyes, eyes Roxas _knows_ to be a brilliant shade of blue-green. “Roxas.”

Feeling his pulse leap in anticipation, Roxas disentangles his hand from Xion’s and makes to move forward. But Xion is already a step ahead, arm flung wide to forestall him. She gives him a small shake of her head, then begins approaching Riku. This, in turn, propels the silver-haired not-stranger to his feet, and they meet halfway across the room. 

“Riku.” There’s also familiarity in the way Xion pronounces _his_ name, and Roxas likes that even _less_. “Naminé is here, isn’t she?

Riku nods. “She’s waiting for you in the white room upstairs, the one furthest to your left.” He gives Roxas a significant tilt of the head. “I wasn’t expecting _him_ to tag along.”

Oh, is Roxas’ presence unwelcome, now? But the instinctive retort dies in his throat as Xion throws him a glance over her shoulder – a silent request not to interfere. “He offered to come with me, and I'm glad to have him at my side." She folds her hands together, expression fading into sombreness. "Especially now.”

There appears to be sympathy in Riku's answering wince. "Of course. How much does he know about Sora?”

“Everything I know.”

“Is he also here because…?” Riku trails off, something tentative in his voice, but Xion shakes her head.

“No, he can’t quite feel Sora yet.”

Riku’s shoulders hunch ever so slightly, and his overlong fringe falls against his blindfold. “I see.”

A strange silence follows, broken by the sound of Xion clearing her throat. “Well, I’ll go meet Naminé now.” Lifting her right hand, she rests it against Riku’s opposite elbow. “Thank you, Riku. For being patient. For giving me time to reach this decision.”

In a motion so gentle that it can be construed as tender, Riku removes her hand and encloses it between his own. “No, Xion,” he murmurs, his words laden with feeling. “Thank _you_.”

Witnessing this scene – undeniable proof that his best friend and enemy hold each other in some level of regard – infuriates Roxas unlike anything else. His anger, having steadily grown throughout their exchange, now soars to boiling point. What right does Riku have to touch Xion like _that_ , as though he’s someone who actually cares for her? And how _dare_ he express gratitude? It’s nothing but a cruel joke, approving of her horrific choice to throw away her life—!

With jaw clenched and hands balled into fists, Roxas storms towards the duo. Seeing his approach, Riku breaks contact with Xion and steps away. Then he retreats further as Roxas interposes himself between them, wariness clear in his expression.

“You’re the one who convinced Xion to go back to Sora, right?” Roxas growls, glaring up at the older teenager’s blindfold.

Riku meets his gaze without flinching. “Yeah.”

“What have you been telling her this whole time?”

“The truth,” he replies in a neutral, controlled tone. “Sora needs her in order to wake up. He needs _you_ , too.”

“Won’t we just disappear if we go back to him?” Roxas insists, daring – and secretly _hoping_ – for Riku to contradict him.

But there’s only discomfort on other guy’s face. “You’ll live on in Sora’s heart. But you won’t be yourself anymore.”

Though Roxas had guessed at this outcome from Xion's explanation, having it confirmed does nothing to alleviate the bitter crush of disappointment. Why had he allowed himself to be so foolish, entertaining the wish of something better?

“How’s that any different to being gone?” he demands. When this is met with the expected silence, Roxas continues, “What about Xion? Will she just—” he finds himself choking on the word, “ _—v-vanish_ , like she’s never existed?” 

Riku responds with a heavy sigh, which speaks as much as the verbal affirmation itself.

“I know we have his memories,” Roxas goes on, his voice climbing with each word as fury and distress clash in a painful cacophony inside him. “I know they don’t belong to us, and we have to give them back in the end. But it’s not like we took them on purpose! We didn’t choose to be like this!” He thumps his fists against his thighs. “We didn’t even choose to  _exist_!”

Riku matches his emphatic tone with his own. “I _know_ that, Roxas.”

“ _I don't wanna lose Xion_!” The words escape him in an uncontrollable outburst, and tears squeeze out from the corners of his eyes and roll down his cheeks. He angrily swipes them away. “She’s my best friend! I don’t wanna lose  _me_ , either!”

The older teenager’s lips are peeled back in a uneasy grimace, but he says nothing.

Taking a shuddering breath, Roxas asks in a steadier voice, “Is there no other way to wake Sora up?”

“Believe me, I don’t like this anymore than you do.”

This answer is so _unsatisfactory_ that it instantly shatters what little calm Roxas had managed to restore. “You don’t _like_ this, huh?” he hisses through gritted teeth, his fingers bunching up the fabric of his coat. “Do you honestly give a damn about how we feel? What does throwing away two Nobodies matter, so long as you get your precious Sora back?”

“DiZ said that Nobodies can’t feel—”

“Is that how you’ve justified it to yourself?” he interrupts, snarling. “That it’s okay to wipe two people from existence because we supposedly can’t feel?” Striding forward so that they are now bare inches apart, Roxas thrusts a belligerent chin up at his adversary. “The evidence is staring you right in the face! Does this look like I can’t feel _any fucking thing_ to you?” 

To his surprise, Riku doesn’t return his aggression. “It would’ve made everything easier if it _were_ true,” the older male sighs, heaviness in his voice. “I believed it at first. But after watching you and Xion…” He hangs his head. “All I can say is that I’m sorry.”

Backing off a couple of steps, Roxas looks away. There's something a little too _genuine_ about Riku's remorse. But it’s far too little too late. “Sorry doesn’t even begin to cut it.”

“Roxas,” Riku persists, “I won’t demean you or her by claiming an apology is enough. I know you two have got the short end of the shortest stick. But I’m trying to give you a choice here, rather than taking it by force.”

Snapping his head back up to meet Riku's gaze, Roxas bares his teeth rebelliously. “What if I say no?”

The other guy’s lips twist in an almost pitying manner. “What will you do instead? Go back to the Organisation? You know you’re no more than a tool to them.”

“Just like I am to _you_ ,” Roxas spits out. “I can... run away.” Returning to his best friend's side, he loops a possessive arm around hers. “Take Xion with me."

But the look she gives him isn't one of agreement – quite the contrary, in fact. “I won’t go with you, Roxas,” Xion states, the first time she’s spoken since his heated conversation with Riku began. “I’ve already told you that.”

Her words lance through him with the severity of a mortal blow. Dropping her arm as though it had suddenly turned into a live wire, Roxas staggers back, clutching at his chest – the space his heart would be if he had one. “Xion…” 

She also turns away from him, apology radiating from her slumped shoulders and downcast eyes. For the next few seconds, there is nothing but agonising silence. Fortunately, Riku's interjection prevents it from stretching on any longer, drawing their attention back to him.

"Okay Roxas, for discussion’s sake, let’s say you convince Xion to go with you. What then? You'll always be on the run. The Organisation won't stop until they capture you or her. Not to mention you won't be able to keep it up for long. So long as you’re near Xion, you'll keep getting weaker. One day you won't be strong enough to fight back. One day you won’t even wake up."

Knowing Riku’s words to be true, Roxas can only resort to defiance. “Like _this_ is any better!"

“Think about it, Roxas,” the older teenager says in a reasonable manner. “Will you run away, knowing you’ll eventually die or get caught? Or will you give yourself up now, something that’s guaranteed to help out someone else?"

Against his better judgement, Roxas follows Riku's advice and weighs the two options. It’s a lose-lose situation either way, both ending with his and Xion’s demise. He lets out a defeated breath. “When you put it that way, what other choice do I have?”

“Sometimes there isn’t any other choice.” There's a solemn cast to Riku's face. “Doing the right thing often requires sacrifice."

 _Sacrifice_. Hearing that term thrown around like _that_ – as though Riku fully _understands_ the awfulness it entails – makes Roxas’ temper flare up again. “Easy for you to say, when it's someone else making the sacrifice!"

His retort causes a shift in Riku’s demeanour, cool rationality giving way to something hard and unyielding. “Roxas," he declares, blindfolded gaze boring into his, "I _will_ wake Sora up at all costs. I'd rather not fight you for it. But if worst comes to worst, I _will_ do everything in my power to ensure it happens, even if it means taking you back to him against your will.”

Having grown tenser and tenser over the course of Riku’s less-than-friendly speech, Roxas finally gives in to instinct and calls the Keyblade to his fingertips. Riku reacts in similar fashion, leaping back as a dark, wing-like blade materialises in his hand. 

Both assume a ready stance: Roxas with a double-handed grip, Riku with his ever-so-familiar weapon poised above his head. For a brief, charged moment, they size each other up—

But Xion intervenes before either of them can so much as lunge forward. In a black blur, she rushes past Roxas, throwing herself between him and Riku with arms spread wide. 

“Guys, don’t!” she yells. “There’s no point in fighting!”

Feeling bewildered – and not a little _betrayed_ – by her actions, Roxas stares at his best friend's back. “Xion, why are you defending him?”

“I’m defending _you_ ,” she corrects, looking over her shoulder to fix insistent eyes upon his own. “Please don't fight him, Roxas. I don’t want to see you hurt."

Her words cut through his adrenaline haze like a Keyblade through Heartless, pulling back reason in its place. 

Roxas thinks about the importance of going into battle prepared – one of the better lessons the Organisation had taught him. This brings him to the realisation that he doesn’t know anything about Riku’s combat skills, Sora's sketchy memories notwithstanding. Xion _does_ however, having engaged Riku before. Roxas recalls, days and days ago, how she had returned from her mission distraught, reporting that her opponent was too strong.

Combine that with the fact that he has become weaker and weaker as of late, and the odds are slim that he’d emerge the winner. Even now – riled up as he is – Roxas can feel the fatigue in his limbs, the inadvertent drain Xion's nearness has on him.

Furthermore, there’s something underlying Riku’s claim to victory: an absolute, unshakable resolve. Loath as he is to admit it, Roxas is certain that Riku would go to every imaginable length to achieve his goal. If needed, he'd pit himself against Roxas over and over until he finally beats him into submission. But where is this resolve coming from? What could motivate Riku so powerfully?

Then the answer hits him.

“You’d do anything for Sora, wouldn’t you?” Roxas calls out, more statement than question. _You’d even tear apart people’s lives just for a chance to save him. I know, because—_

_—I’d do the same for Xion._

Behind Xion’s shoulder, Riku’s expression transforms into one of surprise. “Yeah.”

That simple answer is enough for him. With a decisive wave, Roxas banishes his weapon, watching as Riku does likewise. Xion continues to observe them with wary eyes, however. It is only after several seconds had passed that she steps away to the side, satisfied that the tension between them had dissolved.

“I get it,” Roxas admits quietly to Riku. Then, driven by the need to justify himself – because there’s no way he'd voluntarily reach a point of understanding with his _enemy_ , of all people – he continues, “But I’m not saying I agree to this straightaway. You’re sorely mistaken if you think I’m gonna walk to my death just like that. It’s just—” he pauses, letting out a tired sigh, “I can see where you’re coming from.”

Riku acknowledges his compromise with a tight, not-quite-smile. “Glad to hear it.”

Glancing over at his best friend – who returns his sombre gaze – Roxas announces, “I’m going with Xion to see Naminé. I wanna hear what she has to say with my own ears.”

Riku doesn’t object. “Go ahead. She’s been wanting to meet you both for a long time.”

“She does, huh?” Roxas remarks, raising a curious eyebrow. “We’ll see how that goes.”

Now that their emotionally wrought conversation has come to a close, he turns away from the older teenager, beckoning for Xion to join him. She does, leaving behind Riku, who resumes his previous slouch against the winged unicorn stand. Silence descends upon them as they ascend the left stairwell and proceed to the leftmost room at the end of the landing. It is not until they are standing before the white door that Roxas musters the courage to speak up, breaking said silence:

“Xion?”

She turns towards him, unease writ plain across her face. “Roxas, about earlier, I—”

He shakes his head, forestalling what he knows to be an upcoming apology. “You _did_ make it clear to me. I just didn’t wanna accept it.”

Xion lowers her gaze. “It’s... not easy, I understand.”

“If you won’t come with me, I’ll just go with you instead.” Reaching for her hands, he cups them tenderly within his own – a gesture for his benefit as much as hers, if only to overwrite the affront of Riku's earlier demonstration. It's _Roxas_ who truly cares for Xion, after all. “No matter what, I’ll always stand by you.”

There's a breathtaking mix of gratitude and fondness within her indigo eyes. “Roxas, you’re the best friend anyone can ever want," she says with a small, sad smile. "But I’m not asking you to make the same sacrifice—”

“That’s _my_ choice, isn’t it?” he interrupts, not unkindly. “Don’t count on it, though; I haven’t made up my mind yet." With the same tenderness as before, he sets down her hands. "Like I said, I’ll hear out Naminé first.”

She nods. “Fair enough.”

Drawing a deep breath, Roxas steps forward – towards the white doors of their imminent doom – and pushes them open.


	3. Snarl of Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One thing that struck me as peculiar is the way that canon depicts Roxas’ recollection of Sora’s memories. Roxas calls Sora ‘the boy in red’, as though he’s viewing things from a observer’s perspective. It makes him very detached from those memories, because he’s effectively watching someone else go through them rather than experiencing them himself.
> 
> I don’t like that interpretation. It doesn’t any sense at all. Roxas should be reliving those memories from Sora’s POV – which means he also remembers the emotions attached to them. I’ve tried to make that clear in the previous chapter when he recognises Riku, but it’ll be more explicit when he recalls Kairi as well. Gonna play with the idea of transference and memory resonance. If you’ve read any of my NieR: Automata fics featuring the resident couple 2B/9S, you’ll find that this is something of a recurring theme.
> 
> Also, I’ve headcanoned that Nobodies are physiologically identical to humans. They bleed, so they must have a functional circulatory system, which means they have a heart. Or the physiological equivalent. It’s the metaphysical vessel that they’re missing. Of course, Roxas doesn’t realise that he’s already grown a new heart…
> 
> Thank you for reading, and especially those of you who have left a kudos and/or comment! Comments keep me happy and motivated :-)

xxx

**3. _Snarl of Memories_**

xxx

The room is overwhelmingly _white_.

Roxas squints, unaccustomed to so much brightness. Though the crayon drawings pinned to the walls break up some of it, the lack of colour permeates everything else: the ceiling, the furniture, the curtains. Even the girl sitting at the end of the table is pale enough to blend into the décor. Her fair complexion and straw-blonde hair barely differentiate her from her surroundings, and her ivory slip of a dress may as well be camouflage. But she does have _one_ stand-out characteristic: eyes the same shade of indigo as Xion’s.

Said eyes are roving between him and Xion now, a strange sheen in them that speaks of preternatural knowledge. Her voice contains the same mysterious quality, tinkling soft and silvery as she greets them:

“Hello Roxas, Xion.” 

“Uh, h-hi there?” Roxas garbles out, taken aback. Though their host doesn’t look like the type to start a fight, he hadn’t expected to be exchanging pleasantries with her. 

Xion returns the greeting with rather more dignity. “Hi Naminé.”

“You know,” the blonde girl continues cordially, “I’ve been waiting a long time to meet you two.” 

Having only learned of _her_ existence a scant half-hour ago, Roxas can’t say the same. “Who exactly are you, Naminé?”

Something dark flickers across her face and disappears in the next instant. “I’m a witch with powers over Sora’s heart and memories, and those of people connected to him.”

Roxas nods. That description makes sense, given how Naminé had recognised him and Xion as soon as they’d set foot into her room, and unannounced at that. But unless he’d missed his guess, it’s not something from which she derives any real pleasure.

“Does that mean you know all about me and Roxas, then?” Xion asks.

“I do.”

A furrow forms between Xion’s brows. “Naminé, there’s something I’ve been wondering about. If I’m meant to be a copy of Roxas, how come I’m not more like him? Or Sora?”

Naminé’s eyes have a knowing glint to them, as though she had anticipated this question. “That’s because you’re not Roxas _or_ Sora, but rather Kairi as Sora remembers her. Perhaps it can even be said that you’re Roxas’ _idea_ of Kairi.”

“Kairi,” Roxas tries out the strangely familiar name. As it rolls off his tongue – filling him with a sharp, inexplicable pang of _longing_ – the cobwebs in his mind clear away. “Oh! She’s the girl in Sora’s memories who looks so much like Xion, but with red hair.”

“It’s more accurate to say that Xion looks like Kairi,” remarks Naminé with a thoughtful purse of her lips, “rather than the other way 'round.”

“’Cause Kairi’s the original, I guess?” 

“That’s right.”

Pressing his chin against his knuckles, Roxas muses over Naminé’s revelation and what it implies. “So you’re saying _I’ve_ somehow... made Xion the way she is? Like a reflection of Kairi?”

Naminé tilts her head, something that’s halfway between a nod and a shake. “Xion formed her own identity over time, one distinct from Kairi’s. But she didn’t have any features to begin with, and it was her exposure to _you_ that gave her this appearance.”

Roxas turns towards his best friend, towards the choppy black bangs and indigo eyes that he finds so indescribably precious. Xion doesn’t seem to notice; her gaze is clouded over in deep thought. Unable to resist the impulse, he superimposes the hazy memory of Kairi’s face over hers. The resemblance is so uncanny that he cannot believe he hadn’t noticed it until now.

Is Xion the manifestation of his unconscious desires? A carryover from his forgotten past as Sora, wanting to be with the one he treasured most? Had he unknowingly longed for Kairi’s presence so much that he’d shaped Xion into her likeness?

Although he has much to learn about feelings and their complexities, Roxas _knows_ that Sora cares for Kairi more than anything else in the world. There’s always some emotion that saturates his memory-dreams of them together, which have become increasingly frequent and vivid as his strength diminishes. Having run up against the blank wall of oblivion for so long, Roxas doesn’t feel like he belongs in these memories anymore. He’s hardly different from a spectator, now.

Nevertheless, he remembers—

_(contentment, when he and Kairi had sat side-by-side on the paopu tree, watching the sun set on the watery horizon—)_

_(fear and shock, when she was swept, ghost-like, into and_ past _his arms—)_

_(breathtaking relief, when her comatose body twitched as he reached towards her—)_

Not only are these feelings proof of Sora’s devotion to Kairi, they also seem to have bled across to Roxas’ relationship with Xion. Had he been reenacting his past with her all along, without realising it? That would explain so many things. Now that he thinks on it, what Sora feels towards Kairi is not unlike what Roxas himself feels towards Xion. 

There’s the way he unfailingly gravitates towards her, drawn by an initial spark of familiarity that has become warm and comfortable over time. There’s his protectiveness of her, the fact that he’d do anything to keep her safe and make sure she’s okay. And there’s his wish to see her happy – to _be_ the source of her happiness – and remain evermore by her side…

These feelings, do they make up what ‘love’ is?

Xaldin had dismissed love as ‘cloying nonsense’ at the same time as he’d acknowledged its power. But it’s something that neither he nor Roxas would ever grasp, due to their lack of hearts. (As the days went by, Roxas became less and less convinced of that argument.) Axel, on the other hand, had described love as something special that happens between two people. 

There’s definitely something special between Sora and Kairi. One would have to be blind and deaf not to see that.

If Sora loves Kairi, does this mean that Roxas loves Xion?

And if it’s true, has this realisation come too late, for their time together is about to end? Has Roxas made it all this way – finally discovering that he _is_ capable of love – only to be robbed of all further opportunity, robbed of his very beloved herself?

It’s an unbearable thought, one that leaves him choking on regret and bitterness at a future that will never be realised. Desperate for a distraction, Roxas seizes upon the nearest subject: Naminé. 

The agonised beats of his not-heart slow down as he focusses on their mysterious host. There’s something about her that _itches_ at him. He doesn’t quite recognise her, but she doesn’t feel completely foreign either. Though her hair may be several shades too light, close examination would reveal that she has the same heart-shaped face as Xion – as _Kairi_. 

Why is that?

Taking a moment to gather himself, Roxas breaks the pensive silence. “Naminé?” 

The indigo eyes that meet his are hauntingly familiar. “Yes, Roxas?”

“I can’t help but notice you look like Kairi too,” he states in his typical blunt manner. “You’re not another copy like Xion, are you?”

Naminé shakes her head. “No, I’m just a shadow of Kairi.” Her voice is tinged with unhappiness.

“Are you her Nobody, then?” Xion pipes up, giving the other girl an astute look.

Naminé responds with a small, close-lipped smile, an expression that Roxas has seen many a time on Xion’s face. It makes their resemblance to each other – _and_ Kairi – all the more striking. “You figured that out pretty quick.”

Another silence follows in the wake of her reply. Roxas blinks once, twice, three times. Among the many revelations dropped onto him today, this one had come completely out of left field.

Aren’t all the elite, human-like Nobodies already gathered into the Organisation? Clearly, Roxas is mistaken. It’s short-sighted of him to assume that only thirteen of them exist. Of course there would be more out there; the Organisation need only recruit enough members to fill up the numbered seats. Loath as he is to admit it, Xion had been no more than a lowly extra. Were Naminé among their ranks, it’s unlikely she would be treated any better.

But how had she come to _be_ in the first place? 

Her self-described powers aren’t like anything Roxas had ever heard of before, so she must be a special case. Did something unfortunate happen to Kairi, causing her to leave her Nobody behind? Or was Naminé born of some weird process that allowed hers and Kairi’s simultaneous existence, like his and Sora’s? If so, is she another victim of his and Xion’s circumstance, someone doomed to rejoin their original self and disappear?

Thinking about this makes Roxas’ gut lurch uncomfortably.

“Kairi is alive and well,” Naminé supplies, as though she’d read his mind. “One day, I’ll have to go back to her too.”

That confirms it. So, Naminé is truest of their Nobody kin, united in the same tragic fate. “You’re not very different from us, then.”

She gives a sombre nod. “That’s right.”

“Then you oughta know how we feel!” Roxas bursts out. Though Naminé is merely a stranger – and one on the enemy’s side, no less – he can’t help but feel betrayed by her. “Why are you going along with this? Why are helping Riku to wake Sora up?”

Naminé folds earnest hands over her breast. “Because the world need Sora. He is connected to so many people, friends and allies who miss him dearly.” Then her expression changes, and Roxas can hear the mix of guilt and reverence in her voice. “Not to mention I owe so much to him. He was the first person to show me kindness. He forgave me and protected me, even though I did horrible things to him.”

It’s clear she’d undergone some sort of life-changing event with his other self. But Roxas suspects something else. If _he_ had managed to inherit Sora’s feelings for Kairi – transplanted though they are onto Xion – it would make sense for the reverse to happen with Naminé.

“You care for him.” 

“I do.” Her reply is quiet, but there is real conviction behind it. “I promised him I would wake him up.”

“And you’re willing to sacrifice me and Xion to do that,” Roxas finishes for her, feeling resentment bubble up inside his chest.

Naminé’s eyes are cast in shadow. “I know it’s awful, and I honestly wish there were some better way,” she admits, setting her hands down on the table. “But not everything is lost for you, Roxas. When you join with Sora, you won’t be gone. You’ll become whole. But Sora will be the dominant personality, while you linger in the background.”

Riku had provided the same answer in different words. “So I’ll be trapped in a body I have no control over?”

“It’s more like you’ll be sleeping inside him.”

Roxas huffs. What is that but some half-baked excuse of a life? Still, it’s leaps and bounds better than what his best friend is about to face. “But Xion will just disappear instead?”

“Sadly, yes.”

“Why are things so… _final_ for her?” If Xion’s demise cannot be avoided, Roxas would at least like an explanation why.

When Naminé answers, there’s a heaviness to her voice, one that can only beget bad news. “You’re Sora’s Nobody, while Xion is a replica made up of Sora’s memories. It is these memories that have given Xion her form and identity. Because of that, they are tied into her existence. Stripped of them, Xion will fade away, since she has no longer has anything to tether her to the world.”

Naminé drops her gaze onto her hands, unable to maintain eye-contact. “Unfortunately, there is another consequence of this. When Xion returns to Sora, the memories that she’s made up of will come apart. This will cause the memories that everyone holds of her to come apart, too. In short, they’ll be rewritten as though she’d never been in them. No one will remember her.” She shakes her head in despair. “Even with my powers, I won’t be able to salvage a single memory of her.”

It takes several seconds for Naminé’s words to sink in. When they do, Roxas finds himself shaken to his very core. “So you’re saying that not only will Xion vanish, I’ll also _forget_ her?” 

Naminé is still refusing to meet his eyes. “I’m terribly sorry.”

Rounding on his best friend, Roxas demands, “Xion, did you know this?

The expression on her face looks far too much like acceptance. “Not the reason behind it, but I expected something like this, yes.”

“And you’re _okay_ with it?” he persists, incredulity mixing in with his horror.

Xion’s lips flatten into a grave line. “Coming to terms with it took a while, but I know it’s the right thing to do.”

Overwhelmed by the urge to shake much-needed sense into her, Roxas steps forward and claps his hands around Xion’s shoulders. “ _The right thing_? Like hell it is!” he exclaims, his voice rising to a wail. “There’s nothing right about forgetting you! You can’t seriously want this!”

But his agitated display fails to dissuade her, and her eyes remain steady on his. _Resolute_. “Roxas, it has never been about what I want. Only what I _must_ do.”

God, how that statement _hurts_. “Xion…” Roxas topples forward, his forehead coming to rest against her shoulder. “Xion, I just can’t do this.” His words come out ragged, and tears spill unabashedly from his eyes. “I can’t let you go _and_ forget about you, too. It’ll be like losing you _forever_.”

Xion doesn’t reply. Roxas registers her hand’s gentle weight on the back of his head, her fingers curling into his hair. Were this another occasion, he would have revelled in her touch. But it does nothing to console him now.

They stay in this painful stalemate for a full minute, neither able to let go. Then Naminé’s tentative voice interrupts them:

“Roxas, Xion, if I may… say something?”

“Go on,” he hears Xion say.

“There is something I can try. I might be able to untangle Sora’s memories from you and Roxas. This will, in theory, allow both of you to live. Convincing DiZ to let me do it will be really difficult, though.”

Roxas snaps his head up. Naminé’s offer has kindled a flame of hope within his chest, so bright and painful that he finds it hard to breathe. “There’s a way to let us… live?” 

“I think so,” Naminé replies with a hesitant nod. “But it’s not a guarantee. And I don’t know what the side-effects are. You could potentially lose all your current memories, and start over a blank slate. Not to mention it’ll be a long and drawn-out process, taking at least a year.”

Separating himself from Xion, Roxas wipes his eyes on his sleeve. “I’m willing to take that chance. I’ll take anything over forgetting Xion—”

“No, I’m afraid that won’t work,” Xion cuts him off, to his surprise. “Roxas is already living on borrowed time because of me. If we have to wait a year, he won’t survive it. The whole point of giving myself up is to prevent that from happening. Without Roxas, Sora will never be complete. _I’m_ the expendable one.”

It’s nothing short of _crushing_ , the prospect of being given salvation only to have it snatched away in the next instant. Across the room, Naminé’s face falls.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think about that.”

“Thank you for the offer anyway,” Xion returns, all unwavering politeness.

This makes the other girl grimace harder. “There _must_ be something I can say or do to make things better…” Then inspiration lights up her eyes, and she turns to meet his gaze. “Roxas, your memories of Xion won’t be permanently erased! Even if you forget her at first, you’ll be able to remember her later on.”

“That’s… possible?” he says warily.

“Yes, I’m sure of it!” Naminé continues with an excited clap. “Think of memories like links in a chain. Recalling one memory leads to recalling another. After Xion returns to Sora, the links will will form a different chain, be arranged in a different order. But your memories of her will be still there; their links will simply need to be put together the way they were before.”

Unbidden, hope swells inside him once more. “And how can I do that?”

“Though the memories themselves may fade, physical reminders – like a picture, or a note – won’t. Maybe you can use that to jog your memory.”

With the suddenness of Thunder magic, it strikes Roxas that he doesn’t _just_ have a note – he has pages upon pages of them. “My diary!” He pats his left pocket, and comes into contact with a reassuring rectangular shape. “I brought that with me.”

“Reading your entries ought to help you remember,” Naminé says encouragingly. “If Xion were to leave you a memento of some kind, that would also help.”

“But wouldn’t that mean Xion has to return to Sora first?” he points out. The strange amnesia would only take effect once Xion is gone. For Roxas to retain his autonomy so that he can forcibly remember her, Xion must therefore leave him behind and face her end alone.

And he must therefore bear the burden of her passing. 

Naminé gives a solemn nod. “It does. You can go together, if you prefer. But you’d forget Xion when you reawaken as Sora.”

Roxas shakes his head. “No, that’s _unacceptable_. Even if it hurts – _no matter how much it hurts_ – I won’t give up her memory.” Turning to face his best friend, he presses a sincere fist to his chest. “I swear to you, Xion: I _will_ remember you.”

Xion’s eyes fly wide. “Roxas…”

“I won’t let you fade away into nothing,” he carries on, determined. “You deserve so much more!”

Her lips form a wobbly smile, and she blinks in rapid succession, as though holding back tears. “I’m really glad you think so.”

Roxas studies her face, mesmerised by the play of emotion across it. With the final hour almost upon them, Xion is prettier than ever to him – _beautiful_ , even. As his eyes roam over each dip and curve and freckle – committing them all to memory – one thing becomes clear to him: he’ll never let her go.

Whether in life or death or nonexistence, Roxas will always treasure Xion.

All that’s left for them now is to confront the inevitable. And the wan, fragile-looking girl seated at the opposite side of the room is their guide. It’s ironic how she is laying down the path before them, given that she will walk their very footsteps when her time also comes.

“Naminé," Roxas begins, looking her in the eye, "there’s something I wanna know. I realise you owe it to Sora to wake him up. But how can you accept all the horrible things that must happen in the process? Doesn’t it bother you? You’re a Nobody just like us! Don’t you wanna be your own person, too?”

There is no humour in Naminé's replying smile. “If I could be my own person, that’ll be a wish come true. But I’m a mistake. I don’t deserve to exist in the first place.”

“Why do you and Xion keep saying that?” Roxas groans, shaking his head in disbelief. “We _do_ deserve to exist!”

“We don’t have a heart," she contends, her expression listless. "We’re just… freaks, empty shells, the by-product of something gone wrong.”

“Do you honestly believe that?" He places a hand over his chest, and feels the steady thrum of a too-convincing heartbeat. "Heart or no heart, we can still feel things!”

Naminé shakes her head. “Maybe we can, Roxas. But that doesn’t make us real people.”

“What makes someone _real_ , then?” he argues, gesticulating for emphasis.

“Real people are those who come into the world naturally. People like Sora.” Naminé sounds confident, if joyless in her answer.

“So, because Sora is a real person and we’re not, he’s automatically more important than us?”

When Naminé fails to make an immediate comeback, Roxas expels a loud sigh. “Yeah, you and I have figured there’s no other way to go about this. But Naminé, is what I’m asking for really all that much? All I want is to be me, to hang out with my best friends." His shoulders droop, and he cannot help the forlornness than creeps into his voice. "Why are we being punished for simply existing? Do we not deserve to live? Are our lives worth less just because we’re not the real thing?”

The look Naminé gives him is filled with profound sadness. “I wish I had an answer for that,” she eventually says.

In this moment, a dark corridor materialises next to Naminé, cutting off any reply Roxas might have given. Stepping out from it is a cloaked man in red and black. Though there are elaborate designs stitched into his clothing, it is his face that draws Roxas' attention. Swathed in a multitude of red bandages, it leaves nothing to be seen but his lips and a piercing orange eye.

He directs an admonishing frown at the blonde girl. “Enough chatter, Naminé.” His voice is deep and imperious, not unlike that of the Organisation’s Superior. Then he turns towards their audience. “Roxas, you and Xion are the missing pieces to Sora’s whole. But he was never meant to be broken in the first place, just as you are never meant to exist.”

Recognising hostility, Roxas clenches his fists and glares at the newcomer. “Is that supposed to convince me?”

“You _will_ return to Sora, one way or another,” the bandaged man counters, undeterred. “It is the only rightful path ahead of you.”

As he had done before with Riku, Roxas bares his teeth rebelliously. “Not if I have any say in it!”

This prompts the newcomer to change tactics. “Will you die as a tool of the Organisation? Or will you fulfill your purpose, the purpose you _know_ to be true?”

“DiZ, please,” Naminé implores, tugging on the man’s sleeve. “Give him some time to think on it.”

He shakes his head at her, impatience evident. “Time is a resource we do not have, Naminé. But here you are, wasting it on useless semantics, giving undue trust to our enemy.” Turning back to Roxas and Xion, he meets their gaze with an accusatory orange eye. “ _You two_ – you have led the Organisation to our doorstep!”

Roxas stiffens in alarm. “They’re here?”

“No, we ran away!” Xion exclaims, waving a frantic hand. “They must have tracked us down!”

He shifts, facing his best friend. “Xion, I’m pretty sure it’s Axel. He received absolute orders to capture you.”

“I can’t let him take me back to the Organisation, Roxas,” she pleads, urgency writ across her features. “You know what they’ll do to me. I’d rather die. I’d rather be forgotten.”

Roxas gives a sharp nod. However much he may _hate_ her sentiment, he wants to stay supportive of her. “Let’s go face him, together.”

Returning his nod, Xion accepts his proffered hand. With his free one, Roxas opens a dark corridor, leading them both through it and out of the mansion.


	4. The Ashes of Our Promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been reimagined many times, running the gamut of scenarios from idyllic to violent. After studying Axel’s motivations in depth – and what a finicky character he is! – I decided it would be best to stick to a near-canon version of events. I can only hope I’ve managed to do this intense, heart-wrenching scene justice…

xxx

**4. _The Ashes of Our Promise_**

xxx

Gut twisting in anticipation, Roxas exits the dark corridor, Xion on his heels. The grass crunches under their feet as they materialise in the clearing outside the mansion grounds. Behind them, the gates once again bar the entrance, having been closed and resealed during their sojourn. 

Here, a familiar someone stands in wait.

He is tall and lanky of build, with his Organisation coat tailored to emphasise that. But there’s a noticeable stoop to his shoulders, and his distinctive mane of red hair is frazzled, testament to the number of times he must’ve run his hand through it. Deep shadows encircle his gem-green eyes, which contain none of their usual liveliness. All in all, he looks worn. Haggard.

“Why, this job has gotten even ickier,” he mutters to himself, his gaze darting between them.

“Axel,” they greet him in unison.

“Xion, Roxas.” The insouciant drawl that characterises the eighth Organisation member returns, and he takes several strides forward, putting himself within combat distance. Although anyone has yet to act hostile, the air positively bristles with tension. “I didn’t expect to find you together, but I’m hardly surprised. You two are magnets for each other… and for trouble.”

When neither of them reply to that, he studies the architecture around and above their heads. “So, this is where the other team decided to set up camp, huh? Right under our very noses.” Then he turns his attention onto Roxas. “Funny, it’s also the same spot where the boss found you on your first day. The day you became one of us.” 

“Yeah, I sorta remember,” Roxas replies lackadaisically, trying to figure out what the older Nobody is getting at.

That becomes apparent with Axel’s next sentence, delivered with a narrowing of shrewd green eyes. “It’s awfully poetic, isn’t it, coming back to the place you began? Since you’re here, I guess this means you’ve been brought up to speed about everything you wanna know.”

Roxas frowns. “That’s something you could’ve done, but you chose not to.” His brows draw lower, and before he realises it, he is glaring daggers at Axel. “You _lied_ to me.” 

The redhead’s lips peel back in a humourless grin. “I had every reason to.” 

“You destroyed my trust in you!” The words burst out of Roxas unbidden.

“What should I have done, then?” Axel raises his voice to match, abandoning his obvious façade of calm. “Lay down the truth? Nothing good would’ve come from it. Just look at us now. The results speak for themselves!” 

Roxas clenches his fists. This is too much like the argument they’d had prior to his leaving the castle, where the frayed remains of their friendship had burned down to cinders. “Even if it’s all bad news, don’t I have the _right_ to know?”

The redhead lets out a derisive huff. “What garbage rhetoric. Ever heard of the saying ‘ignorance is bliss’? If you and Xion had never learned about any of this, you’d both still be in the castle, happy and safe!”

“It’s the principle behind it! _I_ should get to decide whether _I_ wanna hear the truth or not!”

“Would _you_ tell your friend the truth if it was only gonna lead them to their death?” 

Snapping his jaw shut, Roxas hisses through his teeth. _That_ was a valid point. “Well—”

“Admit it, you won’t,” Axel overrides his substance-less fumble of a retort. “Or at the very least, you’d struggle to do it.”

Then he flings out his arms before letting them fall back down, releasing a dramatic sigh in the process. “But everything I’ve done to hide the truth was a crapshot. You’ve found out your true destiny: going back to Sora.” His features contort in ostensible pain. “You’re both gonna die. I’m gonna lose you both at once.” 

“I—I haven’t agreed to it,” Roxas blurts out, consumed by the sudden urge to console the older Nobody. Yet he’s less certain of his answer than he was two mere hours ago, when he’d first come upon this terrible turn of events.

“But _you_ have, haven’t you, Xion?” Axel prompts, turning to the third and hitherto-silent member of their trio.

She nods. “It’s what I must do.” There isn’t the slightest waver in her voice.

“Then it’s only a matter of time before you follow her,” the redhead concludes gravely, gesturing at Roxas. “You’ll follow her, throw both of your lives away, and leave me behind.”

Roxas furrows his eyebrows. “What makes you so sure?”

There’s a wistful curve to Axel’s mouth. “Because you never were able to stand being apart from Xion. You’ve always taken her side, even from the beginning. She’s… _special_ to you in a way that nothing else is.”

Try as he might, Roxas cannot refute those words. Maybe it’s because Xion had always seemed so vulnerable, in need of his support and protection – unlike Axel, the older, unflappable mentor-figure. Or maybe all of this stems from his unusually strong feelings for her, a phenomenon that Axel too has observed and recognised.

“But that’s all moot anyway,” Axel carries on, his expression hardening, “‘cause I’m not gonna let it happen. I’m gonna bring both of you back, starting with you, Xion. Got double the incentive – they’ll destroy me if I refuse. Absolute orders be like that, y’know?”

Xion wrings her hands, her turmoil evident. “I’m really sorry, Axel. I hate to make you choose between my life and yours, but I—I can’t go back to the Organisation.”

“Well, I guess that makes me _the_ sorry one, Xion,” the older Nobody points out, though he sounds distinctly unapologetic. “I’m afraid self-preservation is pretty high on my priority list. And so is keeping both of you _alive_.”

“Axel,” Xion’s manner grows urgent, “that’s not something you have the power to do. There isn’t anything that will stop me from draining Roxas’ life-force. I can’t control it. Just being close to me will make him weaker and weaker, until he… won’t wake up anymore.” 

Stubbornness is clear in the rigid set of Axel’s face. “Then we’ll keep you two separated for as long as we need to!”

“How long do you think we can realistically keep that up for?” Roxas interjects. The idea is shaky at best, not to mention there’s a part of him that just _revolts_ at the thought of staying away from Xion indefinitely. “Besides, that’s not even accounting for what the Organisation think of us. We’re _traitors_! There’s no way they’d take us back!”

“Maybe not with open arms, but you’re not on the permanent hit-list yet!” Axel counters, as though there isn’t any fate worse than becoming the Organisation’s target for elimination. “If you come back voluntarily, I’m sure they’ll let you off the hook. In case you forgot, we _need_ Keyblade wielders. Kingdom Hearts ain’t gonna complete itself. What matters to Xemnas is that you’re still under his thumb.”

“So, if we continue to do his dirty work, he’ll sweep it all under the carpet, huh?”

“Something like that.”

Roxas scoffs. Though the Superior’s convoluted plans may be beyond him, he’s nowhere near stupid enough to think that he and Xion would get away scot-free. “ _Yeah right_.”

This prompts Axel to try a different approach. “Look at it this way: it’ll at least give the three of us another chance to be together! Don’t you want that?” A note of forlornness steals into his otherwise argumentative voice, and his hands flop down to his sides. “Even if it’s only for a little while longer?”

Taken aback, Roxas hangs his head. “I _do_ want that. More than anything.”

“Then why’re you giving up already?” Laid bare, the pleading in Axel’s expression is almost too _painful_ to look at. 

As Roxas scours his mind for an answer, Xion reclaims control of the conversation. “We’re not giving up, Axel; we’re choosing to do what’s _right_. I’m not going to stand by and let Roxas waste away because of me. By returning to Sora, I’m doing what’s best for everyone.”

Axel stares at her in disbelief. “It’s only best for Sora and the other side. Our fucking _enemies_!”

Xion shakes her head. “I’m a puppet, with no purpose other than to be used and thrown away. If I’m going to die, Axel, I want my death to have some meaning.”

“Why are you still refusing to listen?” Axel punctuates his question with a thump of fists against his thighs. “You don’t need to _die_ in the first place!”

“So, I should let myself be a puppet for Xemnas instead?” Xion rejoins, a pitying smile on her lips. “Kingdom Hearts is a _sham_ , Axel.”

“How do you know that?” the older Nobody retorts, though the frantic movement of his eyes betrays his discomfiture at her claim. “And even if it is, it’s keeping the Organisation from destroying you outright!”

“We’re better off without them.”

His brows soar into his widow’s peak. “Better off dead?” 

“That’s guaranteed either way,” Xion replies with quiet, devastating confidence. “When Kingdom Hearts is complete, Xemnas will have no further use for me or Roxas. He’ll dispose of us; we cause too much trouble.”

Axel waves about a frustrated hand. “So you’d rather let the other side dispose of you _now_?”

Angling her jaw up, Xion locks gazes with the older Nobody. “Giving Sora back his memories is the right thing to do. Helping Xemnas along with his plans is _not_.”

“It’s all so black and white to you, isn’t it?” Axel sneers, tossing out his right palm, and then his left. “What’s right, what’s wrong.”

“I _know_ this is right.”

With exaggerated vigour, Axel throws up his arms into the air. “What’s your problem? I’m trying to give you another way out, and you’re tossing it aside like so much fucking trash! Why can’t you stop to consider it for just one teensy moment? That’s all I ask!”

Xion’s eyes are wide with apology, but there’s an all-too-familiar resolve in them – the same resolve she’d directed at Roxas numerous times earlier. “Axel, I already _have_. The time I went back after I first ran away says enough about how the Organisation will treat me. Things have only escalated since then. Roxas and I just... don’t belong there.”

Silence descends in the wake of her reply, tense and gravid. Then it shatters as Axel heaves a loud sigh. “So that’s how it is. You’re gonna be pigheaded until the very end. Well, that leaves me one choice.”

Bracing his feet apart, he thrusts his shoulders back. Wreathes of flame appear around his hands, solidifying into his signature pair of chakrams. “If taking you back by force is the only way, then I _will_ do it. I’m gonna bring us all home – _even if I must hurt you in the process_!”

In response, Xion summons her Keyblade and assumes a double-handed ready stance – a mirror of Roxas' own. “I’m sorry things have come down to this, Axel.”

Roxas glances frantically between them. Though he can’t say he hadn’t expected this outcome, seeing it manifest in reality – for the second time, no less – is more than he can bear. “Guys, _no_!” He throws Axel a wild, betrayed look. “Axel, I told you not to harm her!”

“And I said that’s up to her, didn’t I?” the redhead growls back.

“I’m to blame; I’ve pushed him into this,” Xion interjects before Roxas can open his mouth to argue. Turning back to the older Nobody, she continues, “Axel, please don’t hold back. Promise.”

Her words cause Axel to clench his eyes shut, his whole frame shaking. When he reopens them a moment later, Roxas sees a world of misery reflected within their emerald depths. “ _Goddammit_ , Xion.”

Then he lunges forward, which prompts Xion to do the same. Keyblade and chakrams clash in cacophony of sparks and screeching metal. Then they separate and collide again, over and over, as their owners continue their contest of indomitable wills. Around each other the two Nobodies prowl, stepping forward to deliver a strike, or backing away from harm. Neither lets up for even one second, lest their opponent gain the upper hand. 

Neither can afford to lose.

It’s an deadlier, higher-stakes encore of their last fight, which took place some fifty days ago in another corner of the same town. And just like before, Roxas is delegated to the sidelines. As he looks on, anxiety swelling fit-to-burst within his chest, his fists clench tighter and tighter. Will he be the helpless bystander he was back then, frozen in horror while the two people he cared about proceeded to _hurt_ each other—

“Guys, please stop it!” he screams.

His plea goes unheeded. If anything, it spurs the combatants on, fuels the desperation in their attacks. Magic enters their fighting repertoire. Axel sends swarms of fireballs after Xion, who counters with rivulets of ice. As they whoosh past him, Roxas can feel the dichotomy of their opposing magic. One is a brief, searing heat that makes him flinch away in reflex, while the other is a lingering chill that steals the warmth from the ambient air. If anything can be said of these spells, it’s that they’re _serious_ , cast with the intention to injure or debilitate.

All the while, Axel and Xion hammer at each other with their weapons. Xion uses her shorter height to her advantage, ducking easily under the redhead’s swipes to swing at his knees. Axel, on the other hand, exploits his opponent’s limited reach, keeping her at bay with a continuous bombardment of ranged attacks. Ultimately, this strategy, combined with his greater combat experience, gives him the edge. After a minute or so, it becomes clear that Xion is struggling to keep up. The gap continues to grow ever wider between them.

“Xion, watch out!”

Too busy fending off Axel’s latest salvo of Fire spells, Xion loses track of one of his vagrant chakrams. It flies behind her before looping around, its trajectory obvious to all but her. A sharp cry tears from her throat as it makes impact with her upper back, knocking her forward. It is barely in the nick of time that she regains her footing enough to raise her Keyblade, deflecting Axel’s other incoming chakram.

“NO!”

Keyblade flashing into his hand, Roxas rushes into the fray. The momentary flash of triumph in Axel’s eyes morphs into alarm as Roxas leaps in front of him, teeth bared in a furious snarl.

“I won’t let you hurt Xion anymore!”

He doesn’t give the older Nobody a chance to reply. Driven by rage, Roxas brings his Keyblade down upon Axel. The redhead swings his chakrams forward to parry, but Roxas doesn’t ease off, raining blow after blow upon him. Attacking his opponents hard enough to put them on the constant back foot has always been Roxas’ modus operandi. It’s certainly working now, holding down Axel's full attention and keeping him _away_ from Xion.

But Roxas' energy is draining away fast. Staying on the offensive requires a great deal of stamina, something he’s short on in recent days. Perhaps during the time that his and Xion's powers are in balance, Roxas would be strong enough to face off Axel alone. That's definitely _not_ the case now. Every counterattack Axel deals to him rattles his joints, exacerbates the burn of fatigue in his muscles. As the seconds pass by, it becomes more and more crucial that Xion rejoin the fight.

By double-teaming Axel, they'll be able to end the fight quickly – before Roxas turns into a liability.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watches as Xion produces a Hi-Potion vial from her pocket and gulps down the contents. Injuries attended to, she wastes no time in rushing to Roxas’ aid. Together, they round on Axel, pushing the odds decisively in their favour. Under their combined assault, Axel falters. His movements slacken, and his attack patterns give way to something disorganised and erratic.

Just as Roxas suspects they might've worn Axel down enough for him to call it quits, he dances out of their reach and undos their efforts with a quick chug of his own Hi-Potion. The curative works on him in the same miraculous fashion as it had with Xion, restoring him to fighting health in a matter of seconds. It's not that unexpected of a setback – Roxas should've realised sooner that their habit of carrying medicine into combat goes both ways.

They'll just have to wear Axel down again.

But their opponent's extra Potions may prove a problem. Those could prolong the fight longer than necessary, beyond the scope of Roxas’ limited endurance. Seizing the next opportunity, Roxas smashes his Keyblade against Axel’s thigh, where he knows the pocket is located. His aim is true, as evidenced by the clink of shattering glass alongside Axel's grunt of pain.

The redhead stumbles away, patting his ruined pocket. When he turns out its contents, there are only broken shards coated in the Hi-Potion’s fluorescent green fluid. His dismayed wince does not bring about any sense of satisfaction within Roxas, only something bitter and resigned.

“ _Fucking hell_ , Roxas! Why you gotta do that…”

Biting back his automatic apology, Roxas steps into his place by Xion’s side. Thus they present a united front against their mutual best friend.

Axel looks between them, and the shift in his expression makes it clear that he recognises his impending defeat. Something terrible and desperate takes shape in his eyes. “You wanna fight dirty, huh? Well, I’ll just have to return the favour!”

Without warning, a wall of flame erupts between Roxas and Xion. He leaps out of the way, only to realise that’s exactly what Axel wants: _to separate them_. True to said realisation, the wall expands into a gigantic, impassable barrier that divides the entire field. While it’s probably costing Axel the remainder of his magic reserves, it also lets him single them out and concentrate on one target at a time.

What Roxas hadn’t anticipated is the fact that Axel would choose _him_.

He blocks the first incoming chakram, but the second, enchanted with deadly fire, bypasses his guard. There is a hot rush of pain as it connects with his middle, forcing the air out of his lungs. Then Roxas knows only agony as he is struck over and over, his small body giving out under the barrage of fiery punishment.

Soundly thrashed, Roxas collapses onto the desiccated grass, smoke rising from his coat. Having served its purpose, the wall of fire evaporates. 

“ _Roxas_!” Between the pain and his thoroughly scrambled senses, Roxas is finding it difficult to make out what’s happening. But he recognises Xion’s scream, feels the patter of her approaching footsteps. They stop near him; Xion must be surveying the damage. “Axel, how _could_ you?”

“It was two-versus-one!” the redhead barks back, sounding almost as distraught as she is. “I _had_ to use whatever leverage there is!”

“ _You hurt Roxas_!” He had never heard Xion shout like that before, her voice filled with such intense, righteous _fury_. “I’ll make you _pay_ for that.”

As Roxas turns his pounding head for a better view, a brilliant white aura engulfs Xion and her Keyblade, which transforms into a beam three times its normal length. She rushes at Axel, who proves no match for her powered-up form. Her attacks are swift and relentless, a series of wide slashes that cut through his increasingly sloppy parries. Soon he is helpless to defend himself, leaving Xion to toss him about like a ragdoll.

Maybe Roxas is imagining things; his vision _is_ getting blurrier by the second. But Xion’s image seems to flicker as she zips back and forth around Axel. Her face changes into that of a boy’s – one identical to Roxas’ own – and her hair lightens and grows, becoming a shaggy mess of chestnut-brown spikes.

By the end of it, Axel is a crumpled heap on the ground, while Xion stands over him, victorious. She has resumed her normal black-haired appearance, making Roxas wonder if that weird… flicker was indeed a figment of his hazy imagination. He also feels more exhausted than ever, blanketed by a profound weariness that seems to have sunk into his very bones. Had Xion unintentionally drawn too much energy from him by using her Limit Break?

“Man… you did a serious number on me, Xion,” Axel pants. 

“I didn’t _want_ to, Axel,” Xion replies, fixing the redhead with an unforgiving stare. “But you _hurt_ Roxas. You took advantage of his weakness and gambled on his life. It made me so _angry_.”

A pained chuckle escapes the older Nobody. “Can’t blame ya. Speaking of which, you’d better… check up on him…”

Xion turns around. “Roxas?”

He can barely move. Even something so simple as drawing breath takes a tremendous effort. His limbs may as well be fixed lead weights for what little strength he can muster, and his already unfocussed vision is swimming with black dots. It would be so easy to let his eyes drift shut and surrender to the encroaching darkness—

“Roxas, _please_! Stay with me!”

Xion’s warm presence settles by his side, and he finds his upper body hoisted up and cradled within protective arms. His lips part willingly as she presses a vial against his mouth and tips the contents within. The liquid burns on the way down. However many times Roxas may have imbibed Potions and the like, he had never grown accustomed to the acrid flavour.

The effect is almost instantaneous. For the next few seconds, Roxas is engulfed by white heat as his broken flesh and bones knit themselves back together at a hyper-accelerated rate. Then it evaporates, leaving him blessedly free of pain. He doesn’t need to check beneath his clothes to know that every wound had been erased as though they’d never existed.

Raising a gloved hand, Xion tenderly brushes his fringe away from his face. “How’re you feeling now?”

“B-Better,” Roxas wheezes, fighting the battered sensations that linger about his insides. The Hi-Potion may have patched over his injuries, but it doesn't leave him more energised than before. “T-Thanks, Xion.”

“So, you’ll really leave me behind,” Axel’s scratchy voice recaptures their attention.

Both Roxas and Xion turn towards him. “Axel…”

He thumps his chest, spluttering. “It's no more than I deserve. I suppose an explanation is in order…”

“Let’s hear it,” Xion replies, giving an agreeable nod.

The redhead pauses for a moment to consider his words, and his features take on a melancholic cast. “You kids really mean something to me, y’know? I was prepared to do anything to keep us together. Even… _hurt_ you.

“All the secrets, all the lies… Every dirty little side-job… I did that for us. I knew we couldn’t stay together. I knew that from the very beginning. But I wanted to keep the illusion going for a bit longer…

“Being with you two… made me feel… like I had a heart.” He moves his hand over his chest, clutching at the tattered fabric there. “I just… didn’t expect it to hurt this much, y’know? If I was really Somebody… I don’t think I can bear the pain.”

A great sigh escapes him, and his arm falls back down as he sinks lower onto his knees. “I’ve failed you so badly. I went about it all wrong. And the price I must pay… is to lose the both of you. Everything I’ve done… it feels like it was all for nothing.” He inhales sharply; it almost sounds like a sob.

Overtaken by the sudden need to get words out of his still uncooperative lungs, Roxas coughs and clears his throat several times. “Axel, t-that’s not true,” he eventually croaks out. “It may be over for us… but it isn’t for you. You still get to be yourself. You’re still free.”

But Axel responds by shaking his head slowly, _sadly_. “You just don’t get it, do you? It _is_ all over.”

The telltale black mist of a dark corridor surrounds him, coalescing into an inky circle around his feet. “Xion, Roxas.” Their names fall from his lips in a fond murmur that Roxas has never heard from him before. “Let’s meet again… in the next life. Then we’ll go to the beach together, the three of us.”

Hearing that old promise kindles a familiar warmth inside Roxas’ chest, though this time it’s accompanied by a dull ache. “Yeah… I’d like that.”

“Can you imagine it?” Axel continues in as fanciful a voice as he can manage, as though weaving a tale to spellbound children. “Blue seas, blue skies, the smell of salt in the air, the sound of the waves… We’ll all sit against a tree somewhere, talking and eating ice-cream and watching the sun set.”

“That sounds _w-wonderful_ , Axel,” Xion replies, her words at odds with the tremor in her voice, the tears streaming unashamedly down her cheeks.

A small smile blooms across the older Nobody’s face. For some reason, it highlights the strange marks under his eyes. _They're reverse teardrops_ , Roxas realises with a painful lance of comprehension.

“It does, doesn’t it? Such a beautiful, silly dream.”

The dark corridor swells to its full height, engulfing him before dissipating into shadowy wisps. Axel is gone, and only emptiness remains in his wake.


End file.
